


Grilled Cheese

by MinkowskisButterfly



Category: The Black Tapes Podcast
Genre: Also a little mention of past Strand/Coralee, But not really much, Just a silly little thing, Sort of potential for Alex/Strand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-22 03:52:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11372010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MinkowskisButterfly/pseuds/MinkowskisButterfly
Summary: Saw a thing on Tumblr about grilled cheese sandwiches and characterization, and thought it was an interesting concept. Then I thought about what sorts of grilled cheese Alex would like, or Strand would like. And so I wrote a little thing for fun. Completely unedited, so there's probably typos/inaccuracies.





	Grilled Cheese

Strand had never expected that returning Alex's call would lead to much of anything. A conversation, maybe, about the paranormal. Perhaps an interview. But that, like most such inquiries, in a month it would be virtually forgotten, filed away somewhere in his brain as something that happened but had no real impact. He never would have predicted that he would wind up so heavily involved in her podcast. And, had anyone told him at the time that he would find himself sitting on the well-worn couch in her apartment only a year later, he wouldn't have believed them for a moment.

But here he found himself, while she spoke to him – more at him, really, if he were being honest – over the low wall separating her living room from her kitchen. They normally met up elsewhere to talk about the podcast, but she had insisted on her apartment today. Said she was craving grilled cheese.

She waved the spatula in her hand around emphatically while she spoke. Another story that she had received via email about The Black Tapes. That she seemed to want, in equal parts, to believe and to be proven false. He was used to that by now. Alex's inability to decide where she fell on the scale of skepticism vs. belief. That was so much of why she was barely sleeping now, so much of why he was even more tense and short tempered than he had been before she'd come into his life. He was about to refute the story, when the blaring of the smoke alarm startled both of them.

“Oh shit” Alex hissed, only halfway audible over the shrieking of the detector. Quickly, she darted over to where it hung on the ceiling. She glared balefully up at the device for a brief moment before heading over to the chairs surrounding the table to grab one so she could actually reach it.

Strand merely stood up, took the few steps over to the detector and pressed the button to reset it. Alex stopped mid-way through picking up the chair, setting it back down with a thump.

“Thanks, I don't know what's up with that thing. I swear it only goes off when I'm making grilled cheese,” she huffed, going back over to the stove to check the sandwich sizzling away in the pan. She gave a small satisfied nod, flipping it over to let it brown on the other side. Strand raised his eyebrow, at the back of Alex's head, that seemed... Unlikely. “You're doing the skeptic brow thing,” she jabbed the spatula over her shoulder at him, “I can feel it.”

“You can't feel my facial expressions from over there,” he retorted, returning to his previous position on the couch, smiling ever so slightly.

“Sure I can, get to know someone well enough and you don't always need to see them to know when they're making a face.”

A momentary flash of memory, turning around because he'd felt watched, only to find Coralee smiling at him from her seat at the table, coffee forgotten in front of her as she gazed at him while he made pancakes. They had just gotten back from their honeymoon. Still happy and so in love. His reverie was interrupted by the sound of ceramic being set on the wooden table in front of him, and he looked down to see half a grilled cheese. Molten American cheese oozing slowly from between the slices golden-brown bread and onto the plate.

“It's not much, usually I make them with nicer ingredients, but sometimes, I just kind of want this. Kraft singles and cheap white bread, it's soothing, tastes like childhood,” she said, voice soft as she settled onto the couch next to him. Close enough that it would be so easy to just lean over and let their shoulders touch, take comfort in one another.

But Strand doesn't, he studiously keeps his eyes forward as he takes an obligatory bite of the sandwich, he's not hungry. He never seems to be hungry lately. But Alex made it and wanted to share it with him.

He'll never admit it, but he can almost feel her smile as he does.

 

 


End file.
